


Coffee and Decorum

by pixieferry



Series: Prince Hamid [3]
Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: Choices, Coffee, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieferry/pseuds/pixieferry
Summary: There's nothing like one's first cup of coffee...





	Coffee and Decorum

**Author's Note:**

> A reader on Tumblr requested for an outtake detailing the wedding night. It is called [ Prince Hamid's Three Tales](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803934)

_“How should I grab for happiness?”_

_“Is that not something you should choose for yourself?…To grab for happiness, I would say that a girl such as yourself should remember always to ask what **she** wants, over what others want for her. She should dance when the music moves her, and sing when no one listens, and not ask a stranger to decide what makes her happy.”_

_\- Prince Hamid, Chapter 5, Book 1._

* * *

 

They had arrived to London late last night, and retired into bed. Now in the morning light, Liana could finally see the beauty of Hamid’s - no,  _their_ townhouse, she corrected herself, smiling. Her feet sank into the soft Persian rugs that adorned the hallway, admiring the eclectic choice of furnishings for the first time. It must have been from his travels, she surmised, noting the Greek potteries, the hand painted Oriental screen among the Ottoman and English decor.

“Good morning.” A cheerful voice said from over her shoulder. Hamid. Her  _husband_. She was still getting used to the term, to being somebody’s  _wife_.

“Good morning.” She turned to face him, a little shyly, unaccustomed to seeing him in the mornings. She slowly drew her breath in as Hamid leaned to plant a kiss on her forehead, savoring his scent. He smelled like a bright summer’s day; fresh, warm and woodsy with a hint of floral.

Why did he always smell so good?

_Oud and bergamot,_  he murmured sleepily last night, their wedding night, stroking her hair with feather light touches. Her nerves had been strung as tight as a corset for days leading up to the wedding night. She had been told what would happen. Expect some pain, a bit of blood.

That womenfolk weren’t meant to enjoy it. 

Just lay still, girl, let him go in and out and be done with. These words, meant to comfort, only filled her with distaste.

And so she laid there in bed, rigid, until Hamid came and warmed her icy hands with his.  _We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,_ he said reassuringly.  _I do not take what is not freely given._

They stayed up talking and laughing whilst he massaged her aching feet, worn from dancing at the reception, with some sweet scented oil. When Hamid finally kissed her goodnight it was as though she was back in Grovershire’s sun kissed meadow, and her fears melted away. 

Liana didn’t want it to stop there.

_Are you sure?_   He asked, despite longing in his eyes.

She met his gaze squarely.  _Yes_.

Her heart sang as Hamid touched her, playing her like a love song, filling her with a sweet desire. Later, when they were both sated and spent, nuzzling the crook of his neck, in his arms, she wondered if she merely imagined it for surely such bliss could only be found in dreams. When she woke in the morning, her bed cold and empty, it was his lingering scent on her that confirmed it wasn’t so.

She sighed inwardly. Why did propriety insist they have separate rooms, separate beds?

Hamid tucked her hand into his elbow and lead her to the ground floor. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. The room is lovely.”

“The adjoining room is quite nice too.” He gave a sly wink. “Feel free to drop by anytime.”

Liana laughed, and lowered her head demurely, as a lady should. If he only knew what she had just been thinking.

There was an strange scent in the dining room, foreign and unfamiliar. A rich, dark and heady aroma with traces of smoke and spice. “What is that smell?”

“Does it offend you?” Hamid asked, his brows furrowed with concern.

“I’m actually not sure what to make of it. It has a…” She lowered her gaze as her cheeks turn warm. “…an effect on me.”

Hamid chuckled softly, gesturing towards the dining room.  “It’s a little something from my homeland. The one luxury I absolutely cannot part with in my travels.”

On the table, set for an otherwise typical English breakfast, Lady Liana spotted what she had assumed was a beautiful copper creamer at one end beside a small demitasse cup. Upon being seated, Liana realised that she was mistaken.

It had a long handle for one, and instead of cream, the frothy liquid inside of it was a dark umber, almost black. The coils of steam unfurling from the aromatic lustrous liquid was hypnotic.

Hamid followed her gaze and said, “This is a  _cezve_. A pot to brew  _kahvesi_. Coffee.”

Coffee. Yes, she had heard of it even though it was a luxury her humble origin could not afford until recently. Despite the change of her social status, the opportunity had not come as the preferred hot beverages in Edgewater was tea or hot chocolate. “I’ve never had coffee before,” she admitted.

“Would you like to try it?”

“I’ve been told it’s not a lady’s drink, that it’s mostly served at gentlemen clubs.”

“Is that a no?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

She flashed an impish smile. “It’s a yes.”

Hamid spoke to his butler, Mehmet, in Turkish, noting how their lips twitched in barely concealed glee. Fiddlesticks, what had she gotten herself into?

“They will prepare a fresh pot for you while you eat. Coffee is usually served after breakfast. In fact, the Turkish word for breakfast,  _kahvalti_ , means ‘before coffee.’”

“You already ate?” she asked, surprised. She glanced at the clock. It was only 10 am, the typical breakfast hour, so she was not late.

“No, I just prefer coffee over tea.“ He gave a dazzling grin. “Now please, help yourself. I’m not sure what your preference for breakfast is yet, but if it’s not here, I can request for the cook to make it.”

“You spoil me, my prince.” Noting the generous selection of breads and spreads, cheeses and fresh fruit. There was even a plate of eggs and kidneys. She helped herself to a roll. “I confess, this isn’t what I expected.”

“And what were you expecting?” he asked evenly, taking some cheese with his bread.

“Something less English. Is this what you normally have for breakfast?”

“What makes you think everything here is English?” Hamid smirked. “I merely selected the most familiar dishes so you feel at home. For instance, that roll you’re having is  _poğaça_ , and there’s some Turkish cheeses here as well.”

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you. I am grateful.”  She squeezed his hand and said earnestly, “It’s just I would also like to get to know you better, and that means understanding your culture. And what better than through a meal?”

“My dear, you have the potential to be a diplomat yourself,” Hamid said, his face beaming with pride and admiration. “Food is more than just a setting at the table. It’s history, a way of life, a different perspective. Tomorrow, if it pleases you, I shall have the kitchen prepare something special for breakfast.”

“I would like that.” She bit into the warm  _poğaça_. It was soft and savory. “Ooh, it has filling. What is this?”

“This one is olives. Do you like it?”

“I love it and look forward to more culinary adventures with you.”

Mehmet returned with a tray in his hands. Hamid got up and took the tray. “I’ll take care of this, thank you. We’ll call if we need anything.”

Hamid deftly poured the liquid from the pot and filled her cup. The hot black liquid a stark contrast against the delicate white ceramic. It was placed within an ornate brass holder, like a tulip on its stem. “You have to let it sit for a bit, to let the sediments go down.”

“It’s not strained?”

“No, so don’t drink til the last drop.”

She took the cup that he offered her, her finger tips grazing his. Was it that or the scent of coffee giving her butterflies?

“It’s beautiful.” Liana murmured, lightly tracing the etched floral motif on the holder. “Is it an heirloom?”

“Supposedly a sultana’s favorite,” he said with a careless shrug. “It’s a  _zarf,_  its main purpose is to prevent your fingers from being burned.”

“What are those?” Liana asked, eyeing a dish of powdered cubes.

“ _Lokum_ , a type of confectionery to be taken after. This one is rosewater flavored.”

“How does one take coffee? With sugar or cream…?”

“It’s brewed with sugar, so there’s no need to add more to it. I personally take it plain but as it’s your first...” he trailed off momentarily and smiled. “We have a saying; coffee should be black as hell, strong as death and sweet as love. In fact, coffee has a significant role in a courtship.”

“Oh?” she said, leaning forward in anticipation, sensing a story.

“When a man is interested for a lady’s hand in marriage, he and his parents will come over seeking her and her family’s blessing. The prospective bride will prepare coffee for the guests, one part to show-off her skill, and another as a test of his character.”

“How so?”

“She puts salt instead of sugar in the groom’s coffee.”

Liana burst into a fit of giggles. “No! Surely not  _salt!”_

He smiled mischievously. “Yes, salt. Legend has it there was a retired colonel that was served salt instead of sugar in his coffee by mistake. His prospective bride had no idea because he drank it quietly, without a fuss. It was only when the other guests drank and reacted did she realise her gaffe.”

“I would have died from embarrassment!”

Hamid nodded gravely though his dark blue eyes twinkled. “To save his beloved from such  _excruciating_ death, the colonel insisted that he loved her salted coffee and would happily drink it everyday, for the rest of his life, if she would have him. And from then on, it became a tradition.”

“But  _why?”_

“Some say it’s to show a groom’s character; a good husband is patient and sweet tempered. Others say it’s an discrete means for a lady to indicate that she is not interested. Salt for a man she doesn’t care for, sugar if she loves him.” Hamid waggled his eyebrows. “I wonder if you would have served salt in my coffee?”

“I guess we will never know,” she replied with a teasing smile. “Should I be expecting salt in  _my_ coffee?”

Hamid grinned but shook his head. “I actually would very much like for you to enjoy your first time.”

Liana’s eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled the fragrance emitting from the cup in her hands, oddly soothing and yet it made her heart race. How could this bring such contradicting feelings? She brought it to her lips, eager to discover how it would taste. She gasped as the flavor hit her tongue, her eyes flying open in shock.

“It’s quite robust,” she said politely, careful not to make a face as she placed the cup down. Hamid laughed.

“Why, my  _dear_ husband, I do believe you were expecting that reaction! You could have warned me.” Liana tried to put on a stern expression, but failed as Hamid’s infectious laughter made the corners of her mouth go up.

“Forgive me, my love,” he hiccuped. “Yes, it’s an acquired taste. The first time may be unpleasant for some, but I must say you handled it most admirably. There will be situations where you’ll be served food that doesn’t agree with your palate, so well done.”

“Why do people drink this?  _How?_ Do they just keep drinking until they like it?”

“Some find coffee pleasurable,” he said with a sip from his cup, a tiny suggestive smile dancing on his lips. 

Pleasurable? Liana couldn’t deny the scent was stimulating, but could there be more to it? Her fingers grasped the cup, sniffing it tentatively. She felt Hamid’s eyes on her, amused.

“We could have tea, if you wish.” He said it sweetly, yet it felt like a challenge.

Liana took a slow and steady sip. This time she knew what to expect. The liquid was bitter, yes, but also richer and thicker than tea. She could taste the sweetness and warmth of spice that tantalized her tongue.

“I think I can manage.” She placed her cup down, slightly breathless. “My goodness, it has quite a kick, like it could wake the dead.”

There was a strange glint in Hamid’s eyes, gone in a flash, replaced with a bland smile. “I’m sure you are familiar with tea reading? We do it with coffee. Would you like me to read yours?”

“Fortune telling? Alright, what do I do?”

“At your last sip, make a wish.”

A wish? Liana picked up the cup, and slowly drank the last of the liquid, stopping just as the silt like sediments came in sight. Hamid plucked the cup off the holder and placed it upside down on a saucer.

“We have to wait for the sediments to go down and dry a little before a reading,” he explained. A reminiscent smile spread on his face.  “My sisters and I would take turns reading each other’s cups as you’re not supposed to read your own.”

“What do you miss the most about home, other than your family?”

He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “My father used to say I have a restless heart, that I could never be content to stay in one place, and so a diplomat’s life would be ideal. I was first deployed to Athens for three years and when I finally returned, I found while Constantinople is still beautiful, it no longer felt quite like home. Time changes things, changes people. My sisters have grown and started families of their own.

“I thought, well that’s that, move on, and move I did, from city to city, crossing oceans and mountains. Never staying for too long until one day-” He stopped abruptly and took Liana’s hands in his, pressing it to his chest, his voice low and deliberate. “What I’m trying to say is, home is not a place, it is where the heart is. And you, my Liana, are my home.”

She blushed furiously, unable to meet the intensity of Hamid’s gaze. If he weren’t holding her hands, Liana would have hid her face in them, so instead she averted her gaze down to her lap.

Hamid placed a hand on her chin, gently tilting her face up as he lowered his. Liana heard him whisper her name, his lips brushing against hers, before finally they met. The sound of her heart beating wildly against her breast was deafening. She tasted the coffee on his soft lips, so much sweeter, she craved for more -  _so early in the morning?_  A scandalized inner voice whispers.  _Yes._

Perhaps it was the coffee’s doing, Liana thought as she hungrily sought for Hamid’s lips again and again, barely pausing for air.  His warm hand caressed her cheek, stoking the fire in her core, filling her with want. She wanted his hands to roam on her curves. She wanted to feel his body pressed against hers. She wanted the heat radiating from between her legs to spread until it consumed her. 

Her fingers fumbled on the smooth silk of his kaftan, rising from his chest to his shoulders, pulling him closer, causing him to knock something off the table. The clatter made them jump apart, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room before they finally broke into a fit of nervous laughter.

Looking slightly dazed, Hamid physically shook himself and picked up the pieces of cutlery from the floor to place on the table. “We’ll continue where we left off another time, tonight perhaps?” His spoke lightly but his eyes were dark, afinger tracing slow circles on her wrist. She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak, knowing if she did, she would tell him to take her on the dining table now.

“Let’s read your cup, shall we?” He frowned when the cup wouldn’t budge from the saucer. “Interesting.”

“Is that a bad sign?” she asked with trepidation, still feeling light-headed. Why did it feel like her veins were abuzz?

Hamid laughed and gave her a reassuring smile. “On the contrary. They call this the Prophet’s Cup, it’s a very good sign. Your wish will come true.”

Liana sighed, and then smiled coyly. “Good.”

“So, what do you think of coffee?” he asked, offering her a  _lokum_.

Liana leaned forward and parted her lips expectantly, eliciting a nervous chuckle from Hamid. Her teeth nipped and sucked his finger gently as he placed the sweetmeat, the color of blush, inside her inviting mouth. He withdrew slowly, eyes transfixed on her lips, his breathing labored. A thousand roses bloomed on her tongue as his eyes, as beautiful as the evening sky, swept her face. 

She lowered her lashes demurely, hiding her giddiness behind a perfectly bland smile.

“It’s a delight.”

**Author's Note:**

> the salt coffee and fortune telling is a real tradition. the story of the colonel being the origin may be not, because I only found this story on one website. 
> 
> Lokum is turkish delight.
> 
> I consumed a lot of coffee while writing this and I have never written a kissing scene. I feel so accomplished, I’ve been bouncing off walls.


End file.
